


The Rainbow That Makes the World Shine

by Aureiya



Series: Wings and Mysteries [1]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Follows Canon Storyline mostly, Full Life Story Before the Shipping, Johnlock Fluff, Kidlock, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mike Stamford A+ Matchmaker, Protective Mycroft, SO GAY, Sexual Content, Slow Build, The Wings Glow Rainbow and That's Your Soulmate AU, Winglock, but only at first, but only over two chapters so come on, sex with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-15 13:27:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4608516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aureiya/pseuds/Aureiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a Universe where everyone has wings, when you see your soulmate their wings will glow with rainbow light for you to see. Both John and Sherlock have been hoping to find their soulmate</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This Is the Start

**Author's Note:**

> My boyfriend gave me this prompt, which also combines all my fave fic tropes. Wings. Soulmates. Looooove. Johnlock. Hope you enjoy! Should have another chapter coming soon

John had always loved his wings; they mimicked those of burrowing owls, and thought the small birds were cute for being predators.

When he was very young, and still downy, he had worried that his wings would be boring and tan, but as they developed the tawny wings formed their speckles. 

His mother had explained about Soulmates when he was about eight, about the same time his father had slapped her and thrown a bottle at Harry and stormed out the door. He had been confused why his mother had ever married him. 

"Johnny," she had murmured, tucking him into bed, "in this world, everyone has one who is supposedly chosen for them. They're your soulmate, perfect for you." She started grooming his feathers at this point, sad and admiring the pattern so similar to hers. 

"But although the universe may think that person is perfect for you, they're still their own people and not perfect in any way. So look forward to your soulmate, but protect your heart John, my dearest." And she had left him with her wisdom. And little John Watson sat up all night imagining what his soulmate would be like. 

\-------------------------------------------

Pica (pica) sericea- the Korean Magpie; the wings of which Sherlock Holmes proudly displayed. Sherlock had researched his wings and the bird counterpart to them the moment he could reach the biology books on his brothers shelves, so by 7 he was an expert in ornithology. 

He thought the magpie a silly bird, something almost common, different than what he was told he was- words like "special" and "unique". But, Sherlock figured, the wings would grow to be dramatic and beautiful and he could enjoy that. 

By eight he was used to hearing the word genius, and was also used to being alone and ostracized. Especially by those around his age group. His parents had tried sending him to a private school, but the teasing and rude names convinced his parents to give him his own tutors. 

However some of the other children's words had stuck with him and he had ,to his own annoyance, gone to ask Mycroft the meaning. 

"Mycroft, what would someone mean if they said I don't have a soulmate?" Sherlock plainly asked his brother one afternoon. 

The older boy paused in whatever work he was scribbling away at on his desk to stare at his brother, his face impassive but his still too fluffy wings were fidgeting. Mycroft had worried about this day. 

"I'm sure you've heard about Soulmates by now Sherlock." He said avoiding the question. 

"Yes obviously Mycroft!" The small boy stated petulantly, throwing himself onto Mycroft's bed, now fiddling with his flight feathers. "I just don't understand why someone would say I wouldn't have one."

Mycroft sighed and stood to walk over to sit beside his brother on the bed. His own wings, mimicking those of a kite, wrapped familiarly around Sherlock. 

"Normal people are quite rude Sher, and are afraid of who or what they do not understand. You are so above such people that they do not think one of them could possibly worthy of you." Mycroft explained to Sherlock. 

Sherlock gave him an incredulous look. 

"I'm not a child, I can tell when you're lying. Are there people without Soulmates?" He demanded to know. 

The eldest Holmes brother sighed once again, he could tell he'd be doing lots of that throughout his life,

"In the most rarest of rare cases Sherlock; usually if one is without their soulmate it is because they had no chance to meet them, and is no reflection on their worth." He spoke with finality, and Sherlock still looked unsure, but he trusted his older brother in such business. 

\-----------------------------------------

John Watson, no matter how many difficult times he'd seen with Soulmates, was completely in love with the idea of having one. 

No matter how many times he had to comfort Harry as she lay drunk crying over the latest break up because "they just had to find their soulmate"

No matter how many times he couldn't look his mother in the eyes because of the bruises there because of his father, because she kept going back to him because "they were made for each other."

No matter what, John Watson was a romantic at heart and hoped each day to meet his soulmate, to see their wings glow for him, to do the ritual. 

He quickly learned in his teen years that gender was no hindrance in his eyes for a potential mate. He dated many girls, and quite a few guys, just hoping beyond hope that one of them would be The One. 

His mother disapproved of his ideas for love. He knew this from the start. Harry was a lesbian, proudly too, and his mother had fought so often with her, there had been so much alcohol over the subject, that John just decided to never mention when he was dating or who he was dating. For sure no matter the gender of his soulmate he would introduce them to his family, but if it was his soulmate, he would not care what they would say either way. His heart was already set on falling in love with them. 

Of course, John Watson was also a realist. Not every moment of his time was spent day dreaming about glowing wings and happily ever afters; when he was sixteen he watched a man have a fatal heart attack in a diner, the mans soulmate had immediately begun wailing and tearing at her beautiful wings, shredding her feathers in mourning and pain. John had felt horrified and stricken by the scene, and moved to want to do something. 

John became determined to become a doctor, he studied and got good grades, had all the working to go to medical school, when his mother had a stroke. All the families money went to her stay in the hospital, when she passed in the next year John knew his dreams were not as attainable. Especially dealing with an alcoholic Harry in mourning. 

The army was his best option. He could train and do his service, while also getting to be a doctor. 

He was going to be the best damn army doctor there ever was. 

\------------------------------------------

Sherlock Holmes both hoped for and loathed the thought of seeing the glowing wings of his soulmate. Seeing them would mean he did in fact have a soul mate, but also he feared they would not like him or he would not like them, because then really what's the point of it in the first place then. 

Sherlock was by no means an idiot, he knew that perfect Soulmates were a myth. His parents were not Soulmates, and yet they were perfectly happy and content. He had also deduced from many people that they had abusive parents because they were struggling to keep a Soulmate relationship. So Sherlock has increasingly held trepidation for his eventual soulmate, and convinced himself that he would just distance himself and avoid building relationships and so run the risk of having a soulmate. 

But there had been times he wished. He wished Victor was his soulmate. Not just a friend. Because then Victor would not have been taken away by another. 

He wished he had a soulmate to listen to him and understand his "crazy" deductions and the quick pace of his mind, he wished they were there to go on adventures with him; Mycroft had gone away to University and barely talked to him now that he was older. 

But most of all he wished he had someone there to protect him- though he was not weak by any means! - but when he was cornered for saying something too bold, when his wings were tugged by other people, he wished most for support. 

Sherlock Holmes had always been fascinated by crimes and gore, so it only made sense he would try to solve a local crime, though no one would believe him when he did. The adults would scoff, the police would laugh and tell him to get out. But he knew what happened to Carl Powers, but no proof could he give. 

A private detective seemed the best way he could use his deductions and intelligence; much more practical then his past idea of being a robber pirate. However Sherlock quickly learned that no matter his learnings and proof of his genius, people would only see him as a freak and a psychopath. 

Drugs seemed like a great idea at the time. 

\-----------------------------------------

Afghanistan was bloody hot, John Watson still counted himself lucky however, because unlike other in his regiment his wings were pretty camouflaged and he did not have to wear covering on them to add to the layers of Kevlar. 

Though the boys all joked that the real reason the army provided wing covers was that if your soulmate was one of the insurgents you never had to see the rainbow glow; John hated the morbidity of the statement but couldn't help fear its truthfulness. 

John was always on patrol it seemed. Always watching, waiting for some attack, some action. Endless dessert with endless distant gunshots or endless quiet. John didn't know which he preferred more. The men of his company were quality lads, all ready to do what had to be done and overall good people. 

James Sholto was one of the best in his opinion, though he may have heads bias. John could admit if he had to have a soulmate from this godforsaken land it would be Sholto. However the peregrine wings upon his back had been nothing but plain in John's eyes. 

This did not stop them from a bit of an affair. A few tumbles during leave and even in their tents, but they both knew the other was expecting another and their wings had stayed so fully removed they looked strained apart even in the deepest moments of passion, of which there were many between the two. John was sad to see the man leave, especially when it was over a wound from a reconnaissance. But they had parted amicably on the base. 

"You'll have to contact me when you get back." James had said, all bandaged up and preparing to board a plane. "And you better come back whole you hear?" 

John had laughed but known the seriousness of the words. 

"You can't get rid of me mate, I still haven't caught my glowing wings." He had returned amicably, " But that means you better be well and truly taken when I get back." John had mock threatened, allowing his wings to brush forward against Sholto's to show his care and worry, and sincerity in wishing him the best. The two had separated with a handshake and that promise, both hoping to see the other again and knowing the odds. 

\-------------------------------------------

The second time Sherlock Holmes was admitted to rehab Mycroft swore it was to be his last. The threat was heavy between them when Mycroft visited his younger brother; his gaze painful on the weak wings and sallow skin of a Sherlock in withdrawals. 

"How could you do this to yourself, your mind?" He had bluntly questioned one of the times Sherlock was lucid. 

Sherlock had frowned at him like he was an idiot,

"You understand how boring it is Mycroft." He stated. But both of them knew the actual reason. 

Sherlock couldn't handle being alone. 

He had watched his only friend grow distant after finding a soulmate, and with each passing year his own soulmate was no where to be found; drugs calmed the thoughts, and the ache in his chest he knew was all in his head. 

So Sherlock stayed in rehab for his brothers sake, cursing him throughout the cold sweats and burning need. Focusing instead on a promise of freedom on the other side. 

He was a month from discharge when his brother brought him a guest. Sherlock could deduce on sight that the man in front of him was his brother soulmate. However he knew his brother would not needlessly bring the man to rub the bond he so desperately wanted in his face. 

So Sherlock observed the man as he came to sit in the chair nearest him and Mycroft hovered nearby. The mans wings were a cardinals red, but one couldn't bank on a person having the birds characteristics. What was more intriguing to figuring out who the man was his hands, strong and sure when he shook hands, smudges from pen but obviously not from a regular office job. 

There was a lump on his side about the usual shape of a badge worn by New Scotland Yard officers. 

Add that to the scent of coffee that hung on the man....

"Am I under arrest?" Sherlock blurted finishing his deductions of the man. 

The man froze partially where he was mostly sitting down then burst into laughter and turned jovially to Mycroft. 

"You certainly weren't lying." He said smiling at Sherlocks older brother, who Sherlock could see was blushing. Damn Soulmates. 

"You're not under arrest Sherlock," the man said turning back to him and holding out a hand. "I'm Greg Lestrade, obviously I work at Scotland Yard, as you know, I'm more here to offer you sort of a job. My says you're very good at solving crimes." He smiled again at the kite winged man who fluffed a bit at the mention. 

Sherlock was stunned. 

"Really?" He exclaimed, "I could help on cases?" He couldn't believe his luck, it was a dream of his; his life goal. 

Lestrade smiled at the young man's enthusiasm and pulled a packet from his pocket

"Take a look at these, and see if you can solve them and when you get out of here, if you stay clean, I can promise to consult you on cases." 

Ripping open the envelope Sherlock can't help how his wings fluff in surprise and joy at the crime scene photos within, though he wishes he could see the ACTUAL crime scene, these were a start. 

After minutes of him shuffling through the pictures and already deducing the criminal. He heard his brother shuffle closer and clear his throat. 

"Thank the man, Sher." His elder brother said. Raising a pointed eyebrow. 

Sherlock hurried to do so, annoyed at societal conventions before turning back to the case. Eager to solve it, not caring about the two men leaving his room. 

He was going to get out of this place, and solve crimes for a living. Everyone would see. 

\---------------------------------------------

The pain wasn't even the worst part, oh the pain was bloody awful, but he could handle it. 

No. What was the worst part was being discharged, being no longer fit for duty because of his stupid shoulder and bum leg. Everything he's worked towards, his work saving people and helping all down the drain. 

He wasn't surprised they made him see a shrink. Depression and PTSD are common in injured and retired soldiers. And he knew he was no different. 

Didn't mean John Watson couldn't be bloody pissed at life because of it. 

Going to London practically broke and with no motivation may have seemed a little crazy, but no way he could try and live with his sister. Or live back in his home town. London was bustling and active, he could feel like he did things without ever doing them. 

He wasn't truly depressed. He was just. Bored almost. Of life. The gun was merely a precaution. 

He could deal with the limp, psychosomatic though they claimed, he'd like to see those doctors deal with the things he had and still say it's all in his head; so he could deal with it. But the nothing of his life. That he couldn't deal with. 

You'd think John would want to see people he had once known. But running into Mike Stamford was not pleasing. 

The man's barn owl wings were similar to Johns as they sat on a park bench and John explained about getting shot and everything. 

"Wish I could find a flat mate though." Was the innocuous statement that would change John Watson's fate. 

"You're the second person to tell me that." Was Mike's reply, and John felt a bit of happiness for the first time in months as he turned in shock to the other man. 

"Really?" John couldn't help but ask. Mike smiled at him and stood. 

"Come along mate, you can meet him now." John bopped after the other man as excitedly as he could with his cane. 

When they arrived at St. Bart's Hospital and headed to the morgue John was a little confused and intrigued. That was until they walked into the room where a tall man with Magpie wings was bent over a microscope and all John could think was-

•Oh. So that's what glowing wings look like.•


	2. And this is the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock have realized they're each other's Soulmates. Now they're getting together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is super romantic and totally how the pilot should have gone

Sherlock barely deigned to look up when the door opened, probably just more people coming to interrupt his work. 

When he finally moved his eyes away from his latest experiment he was the teensiest bit surprised to find Mike standing in the doorway with another man. Surely the man couldn't have found him a flat mate already? And when Sherlock Holmes finally turned his all knowing brain upon the newest person in the room, his brain failed him. 

He could compute what he saw. Surely he couldn't be imagining such things, this small ordinary looking mans wings were glowing for Sherlock. In all the splendor he'd ever heard or dreamed about. By the look on the other mans face it was mutual. Sherlock was bubbling with something. Joy he could only assume. 

His mind had been running deductions without his say, and so he couldn't control when his mouth opened and he blurted-

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" The blonde startled. But awe mostly held his features. 

"Afghanistan." He finally mumbled, "How did you know?" 

The man wasn't afraid. He wasn't freaked out as Sherlock rambled deductions about him; constantly searching those warm features for disgust of any kind. But only amazement. 

"Brilliant." Is what broke the silence after his deductions. The shorts ex soldier with a psychosomatic limp thought he was brilliant. 

His soulmate thought he was. 

Sherlock couldn't help himself as he jotted down the flat addres on a piece of paper and strutted over to the man, his wings flaring and the other mans matching his shapes, a primal dance uncaring of their civilized pretenses. 

"This is the address for the flat." Sherlock said, pressing the paper into his Soulmates hand, both of them shuddering at the small touch,  
"Meet me there at four."  
Sherlocks hips swayed slightly as he walked out, enticing.

"Oh, and the names Sherlock Holmes." He called behind him, keeping up his strut and confidence until he was in the elevator. Where he collapsed against the wall and began giggling to himself at his luck, immediately pulling out his cell to phone Mycroft. 

"My you wouldn't believe what just happened...."

\--------------------------------------------

John gaped after the beautiful man as he walked out of the lab. The paper was grasped tight in his hand. He turned in shock to Mike who was grinning at him. 

"He's something else isn't he Johnny Boy?" The man said genially. 

"He's my soulmate." Was all John could reply with, staring back toward the door where the love of his life had just left, uncaring of the choking it sounded like Mike was doing. 

He looked at the torn paper with a barely legible scribble, his fingers traced it as he looked at the clock. What was he supposed to do for three hours when he knew what was waiting for him?

Mike grasped his shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts. 

"How about we get some lunch, and then I'll help you make sure all your stuff is packed from your hostel alright?" The man reasoned. John nodded and followed him out of the morgue, a place that strangely would become on his list of favorite places. 

He couldn't wait to get to know his soulmate. 

\--------------------------------------------

Sherlock Holmes was sitting in his brothers office and horrible fidgeting, his wings frazzled and fluffing themselves, and his hands going between wringing themselves and preening. 

"What if he doesn't like me My?" He asked his brother once again. The older mail couldn't help but sigh, though he found it pedestrian to show annoyance in such a sound, but his baby brother was getting on his nerves. 

"William Sherlock Holmes." He said strongly, Sherlock immediately stilling. 

"You will calm down and go and meet this man, and then I will have my own discussion with him." Sherlock frowned a bit at the implications.

"But bribing him will surely not make him truly love me." The tall skinny man replied petulantly. 

Mycroft held in the sigh this time. 

"A driver will take you to your flat, this man will care for you Sherlock, he is your soulmate." Mycroft said kindly, a slight smile earning it's way into his lips at the thought of his soulmate of several years. 

Sherlock huffed and sunk into the chair across from Mycrofts desk, aware where his brothers thoughts had strayed. 

"Well it'll be your fault if my hopes get too high and he crushes them."

\--------------------------------------------

So this was Baker Street, thought John as the cab pulled up in front of a building beside a sandwich shop. Just as he was observing from the window as he paid the driver, he saw his soulmate- Sherlock, if he remembered right- stroll up to the steps of the building to wait. 

John quickly threw whatever bills he had at the cabby driver to rush out to the other man. He hobbled over, trying to still look dignified doing it, and admired the one his soul belonged too. 

The man's wings were still glowing, and would continue until they'd become one, and John quickly moved away from that thought as he went up the couple steps to the door. He held out his hand. 

"I'm not sure I ever gave you my name- John Watson." They probably shook hands too long, both slightly reveling in touching some part of their soulmate. 

Finally they stopped holding hands, and there was an awkward minute of trying to come out of their little bubble to reprocess what all was happening. 

"So," Sherlock began "this is the flat in here," they went through the front door, "we have the upstairs and our landlady, Mrs. Hudson, lives on the first floor." They climbed the steps to 221B, John greatly admiring the view of Sherlocks wings from the back, not to mention the arse. 

The flat they entered was cluttered, but seemed roomy enough in John's opinion. Much better then the small place he had from the army. Sherlock was fluttering about making pretend passes at organizing while explaining the rooms. John mostly admired his form and listened only barely to his words until he heard-

"And you could take the upstairs bedroom-" Sherlock was saying, his back to the other man and with tensed wings playing at calmness. 

John couldn't help how his wings flared angrily and arched up to make him bigger, nor could he stop himself when he reached out for the tall man's arm to make him face John. 

"But that's not what you want- is it?" He asked worriedly, worried that his soulmate didn't see him as a soulmate. He looked plaintively into the tall mans face, hoping to see reflected his own feelings. 

But Sherlock seemed frozen in his grasp, eyes wide and mouth the slightest bit open. John was concerned he'd broke the man. He removed his hands when he got no reply. 

"I suppose not then- I'm terribly sorry, I'll just-" 

But whatever he was going to say was interrupted by lips on his. 

\------------------------------------------

Sherlock couldn't believe this wonderful man in front of him, so interesting; so surprising!

His reaction at Sherlock suggesting the upper room was certainly not one Sherlock had planned for, and his brain was explainably confused. So Sherlock froze. And he quickly realized that was a not good reaction when the shorter man, John, began to draw away and apologize, apparently ready to live without his soulmate. 

Sherlock could only explain what happened next with the point that he was overcome by emotions. 

Sherlock kissed John. 

He had kept towards the man planning to stop him and the only way he could certainly achieve that goal was kissing him obviously. 

Now they were both frozen. But this time it didn't last, John's strong (capable-a doctor's) hands cupped the high cheeks of Sherlock to kiss him properly and their wings curled toward each other. But before they could touch the kiss ended. And the two men separated breathing harshly into the quiet room. Tension was thick in the small space; anticipation for what was to come. 

"Yoohoo! Boys!" The tension was broken. Mrs. Hudson was standing in the doorway grinning at the two, a tray of biscuits in hand. 

The men separated slightly, willing away flushes on both their part, to greet the woman. 

"Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock smiled genuinely, "I'd like to introduce your new tenant, John Watson." Sherlock eyes flicked to the side to make sure he wasn't overstepping, John nodded at him. 

John stepped forward with all his military grace to greet Mrs. Hudson like a proper lady, complementing her soft wings. Sherlock fell a little more for him, seeing him treat Mrs. Hudson so kindly. 

"Will you be needing the upstairs room?" She questioned, trying to sound like a concerned land lady, but all knowing she was just snooping. 

Sherlock hesitated over the question, obviously him and John felt something...

"No." The question was answered for him by John; who was giving him a soft look. Mrs. Hudson smiled and congratulated them both before making comments on not being their housekeeper so they should clean the place, and departing graciously. 

The two men were once again just staring at each other again. Sherlock's throat was dry, he resisted as long as he could, but finally had to swallow to wet it, very aware of John's eyes upon his long neck. 

" Sharing the one room then?" He choked out. John said nothing, eyes thick upon Sherlock. Sherlock could not stand being under such eyes any longer,

"I'll show you to it then." He said as an out, leading the blond into the other room, highly aware of the feeling of being stalked as some prey, his own blood boiling at the intent and connotation of such things. 

The bedroom seemed the improper place for the act once Sherlock entered it. It wasn't theirs, not yet, and the bed wasn't a nest of their clothes, but John seemed unconcerned. He indeed plastered himself along Sherlocks back anyways, careful of his wings, his hands wrapping gently around his hips and reveling it seemed in the feeling; so did Sherlock. 

"So." John said after a few minutes of their embrace, "are we going to acknowledge we're Soulmates now and complete the bond?" His voice tinged the tiniest bit with hope. 

Sherlock thought. 

\-------------------------------------------

John Watson was desperately praying to some God that he hadn't overstepped his bounds, that he was drawing his soulmate more in and not instead pushing them away. 

Sherlock seemed content in his grasp; no unwanted tension or panic, he seemed to enjoy it as much as John and that just warmed his heart.

But he was still waiting for an answer to his question, he did not want to rush this but he was feeling desperate. How desperately dos he want to slide his fingers into these wings slightly brushing him, the soft elegant feather caressing his cheek or almost teasingly missing his own wings, which were trembling the tiniest bit out of his control. He couldn't wait to sink their sensitive wings together to share their oils and become one. 

He wondered who would bottom. 

He couldn't tell what he wanted more. 

So he anxiously waited. Breathing in his Soulmates musk, familiarizing himself with the atmosphere of what would be their room. John suddenly became concerned over the state of the room, it was not a nest they had made, is that why Sherlock hesitated?

But John's thoughts were cut off when Sherlock turned in his arms, one wing practically smacking him in the face, not that John would complain of any chance to feel his mates wings. He looked up anxiously at the dark haired man. 

Sherlock was blushing. And smiling. John was in love. 

"If you don't mind our lack of nest," Sherlock started saying. And John was done waiting, he leaned up and kissed his soulmate. 

Their lips connecting so sweetly was heaven. John could die happy here, except he wouldn't because he still had an entire life to live with this man in front of him. 

When they separated from the kiss John felt smug, his lips were tingling and his knees were weak, but Sherlock was desperately gripping his hair and gasping, looking halfway gone already. God John couldn't wait to see his face when the bond was compete. 

"Is this what you want?" John asked trying to reign in his desperation, knowing that consent was most important, especially between Soulmates. 

Sherlock nodded quickly and however much John wanted to snog him he had to wait for words, so he pulled back a step, still holding Sherlocks waist but giving him space. 

Sherlock, the genius he was understood, and cleared his throat trying to get his voice back to respond. 

"Yes" he said, voice thick, "yes, let us be one." Sherlock murmured into John's ear. 

John nodded and let go of the other man, holding back from returning to Sherlocks arms when he reached for him and whined, just so John could ensure the door was closed. 

He turned back to his soulmate and saw him waiting, wings spread and open towards John, his hands mimicking the movement. John swallowed dryly. 

"Yes." He sighed,stepping into the welcoming embrace, their wings beginning to meld and Sherlock dipping his head to meet John so the next words were sighed into his mouth. 

"Let us be one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so the next chapter will be the amazing porn mating and completion of their bond chapter. Skip if that makes you squick. Otherwise leave a comment, critique, or kudos.


	3. A Bond is Formed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally tension comes to a head. And Sherlock and John complete their soulmate bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically sex. Really feelsy sex I think but if you don't like it there's not really any plot development and this chapter can be skipped.

The entwined pair kissed passionately and deeply. Their hands beginning to stray to remove clothes. 

Sherlock was reverent as he removed John's jumper, having deduced already what he'd find beneath. Underneath, John's skin was still slightly tanned from his time in the desert, but while that was entrancing, it was the mangled scar tissue across John's shoulder that drew Sherlock's eyes and gentle hands. He traced the exploded outline and laid a kiss there, John shuddering under his sweet ministrations, petting a hand through Sherlock's curls. 

But John could not stand the attention or slowness for too long, too impatient in wanting his mate as unclothed as he was. And so he used those luscious locks to pull his mate up to his mouth once again and began to tug off his clothes. 

Slipping Sherlock's shirt off he caresses the dark and glossy wings presented before him, distracted by their softness and wondering at how beautiful the dark feather would look meshed into his own tawny wings. 

John led the two of them back and tumbling into the bed, Sherlock splayed beneath him, wings open completely beneath them. John's own wings coming to cover the both of them in a sort of sanctuary. Breathless and heady in their position now bare chest to bare chest. 

Sherlock rolled his hips up desperately into John's solid presence as they began to kiss once again in such warm proximity. 

Sherlock was gasping for breath when John finally pulled back from his plundering of the others mouth. They shared a sweet moment of soft smiles, Sherlock framing John's face in his hands, before he trailed his long dexterous finger down to the denim between them; first popping John's button and zipper and then his own slacks. 

After some awkward giggly shuffling they were now kneeling on the bed facing each other, just in their pants. Sherlock's a sedated navy and John's a vivid red. They eyed each other, eyes trailing over the expanses of skin and feather that they would come to know as well as their own. John was the first to reach back out to touch, Sherlock immediately swaying into his grasp. 

They laid back against the bed once more, slowly, more reverent in their kisses, John's hand gentle yet firm as he began to stroke down the lean body to the fabric that still separated them. He followed down with his lips as he went and removed that soft fabric to reveal the not so soft flesh beneath; twin moans breached the air as Sherlock's cock was left to bob in front of John's face. 

John had no reserve in his desire to taste, immediately flicking his tongue out to stroke along the entire shaft of the man he loved. Sherlock twisted his fingers in the sheets, overcome by the warmth of the heady mouth lavishing upon him. His wings splayed and trembled against the soft sheets beneath him; as ecstatic as he was to have found his soul mate. 

Moans were drawn from deep within Sherlock, wrenched from him as John took him fully in his mouth and began to suck in earnest, his strong working hands cradling Sherlock's hips, making him feel secure and yet ready to fly apart at any moment. But as Sherlock's desperation grew and he began to reach his edge John pulled back, breathing hard and flushed, his lips slick and fingers beginning to bruise the fine hips beneath them from his restraint. 

"Sherlock" he groaned out, voice rough from his activities, making the dark winged man beneath his moan and grab him close to him once again so they could kiss, the time to complete the bonding was coming close, their wings meeting at last and sliding together in warm brushes of electric feeling. 

"Sherlock..." John tried again, breaking their lip lock to try and articulate himself. Sherlock had reached desperation however, sucking a deep mark into the sandy winged man above him as his finger gripped and tore down his pants. Running hands along the firm legs and arse exposed. 

"John." He finally responded when he felt the shorter mans thick need against his own. His brain feeling dazed and calm as it had on drugs, his legs spreading and wrapping to accommodate his soulmate between them. 

Their hips pushed together as one pulling shouts of ecstasy from them both, John wrapping his hands around the base of Sherlock's wings to squeeze the roots to pull the mating oils from them, Sherlock's own nimble fingers scrabbling at John's back to do the same as they began to rock their hips together. A sensual rolling and gasping into each other's mouth as their wings intertwined and their pleasure grew. 

The men's cock rubbed against each other, precum making the entire affair slick and warm and working them to their brink. The oils from the glands of their wings began to ooze thickly between the hands grasping them, hands that moved to hold and grab other places tightly in their ecstasy, the two men's bodies becoming so entwined in their rutting that it was impossible to tell one from the other. 

The glow of the wings surrounding the newly found soulmates grew stronger and brighter as they worked through the bonding. Words were lost in the passion except for pants of each other's names; the tawny owl wings so entrenched in the dark magpie wings beneath them that the two lovers were cocooned completely in a private curtain as they began to reach their peak. 

Sherlock's cries got higher and his grinding stuttered as he reached his peak, his finger buried in his soulmates wings as he shudderingly came. Gasping at the intense feeling as John kept going, his strong hips not faltering and those practiced doctor hands of his not relenting on the sensitive oils of Sherlock's wings. 

"Sherlock!" Was what exploded from John as he came as well in the mess across their stomachs and chests. But neither cared about the mess as their entwined wings shone their brightest and then faded into normality. As if nothing had ever occurred. But the two tangled men were still shaking from the aftershocks of a first coupling. 

"I don't understand," Sherlock spoke up softly after a few moments of catching his breath, still clinging to the strong man above him. 

"I thought there had to be complete intercourse." He whispered; unsure suddenly if this all had been some giant fluke of the universe. 

John hmm-ed and they both gasped a little as he moved to rearrange them in a more comfortable position, wings still hitting sensitive spots and their bodies strung with feelings. 

"I think-" he had to clear his throat a couple times from the gruffness that had been caused by lust and other emotions "- I think that it just depends on the bond. We both feel complete with just this act of intimacy that we don't need penetration."

Sherlock stared at his soulmate impressed by his thought process. But he should've expected it. No way the universe would pair him perfectly with an idiot. 

"Tell me about yourself?" He asks shyly against the man's chest, stroking the sandy wing still slightly connected with his. 

John shifted and looked into the clear intelligent eyes of his soulmate and smiled. 

"Of course, love. After we shower though." He then pulls up the other man with him as he stands, Sherlock not wanting to let go so soon after the bond being completed (John felt the same way), and leading the both of them to wash the stickiness from their skin and to learn each other's a little better under the warm spray of a shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You dirty perverts reading this. Love you all. Just maybe one more chapter to this main story and then there may be snippets added


	4. The Angel's Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Bonding, John and Sherlock talk and go on a date where John has his first encounter with Mycroft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter! I wanted th fluff and the Sap and protective older brothers so I wrote them. Enjoy!

The two winged men lay curled together upon a rumbled bed, flight feathers still tangled, faces close and staring into each other's eyes with awe. 

They had showered together, caressing gently over bodies, discovering scars and softly discussing where they had gotten them and when. 

John had explained his scar a little more, told Sherlock about how the bullets had flown. How he had tried hard to shield his fallen comrade with his own wings as he tried to bandage a bleeding wound. But could eventually do nothing as a bullet ripped through his shoulder, damaging his wing nerves and giving him the pain in his leg. 

Sherlock had almost felt like crying. And just kissed his soulmate, his very own Bonded soulmate, to show his remorse for what had occurred. 

As they had stepped out of the shower and dried, and drifted back to the messy bed, there conversation was lighter; discussions of early school years, where each went for uni and specific studies. Sherlock studied Chemistry and John told about how he desperately wanted to be a doctor. 

The topic of conversation had turned now to family,

"Dad was an abusive drunk," John was telling Sherlock, their voices hushed and neither in a hurry to be anywhere or talk too much. 

"He and mum were soulmates, so she couldn't stand to leave him." He continued on, stroking those sharp cheekbones of the man he could now call his, as said man toyed with some of his tan feathers and held his eyes. No pity shining from them. Just acknowledgement and understanding. 

"When mum died I really had no choice but to serve. Food and board paid for you know." John's smile was thin on his usually warm face. Sherlock couldn't help but kiss that furrowed brow. 

"And your brother?" The darker haired man asked, having deduced a sibling with issues, not caring to want to draw parallels with he and his own brothers relationship 

John's smile was a little more genuine

"Sister actually." He said good natured. Already becoming accustomed to Sherlocks amazing brain, but feeling no shame in giving him a good tease. Sherlock huffed and rolled his eyes in jest, a little annoyed but no ill will when his mate looked so good like this. 

"We're not on the best terms," John explained, "she's become quite a drunkard. And I haven't really contacted her since I got back except to tell her I was alive. She gave me her old phone in return." His laugh was a little less self depreciating and Sherlock could be happy with that. 

Their talking was paused for a bit for a good snogging session. Something that wouldn't exactly go anywhere, but made them both feel thrills to there very core as finger and feathers brushed comfortingly and lovingly over bare skin. 

"Well I'm sure you'll wish me and my brother weren't so close once you meet him." Sherlock says once they've settled again. This time he's snuggled against Johns side and is drawing circles on the faint six pack of muscles he finds on John's belly. 

"Oh?" John asks intrigued, his fingers are scratching gently through Sherlocks hair, which he's quickly realizing is quite sensitive if the reactions are anything to go by

"Mmm... Yes," Sherlock replies a little slower than before. "Without a doubt he will ambush us at dinner tonight, most likely with his soulmate Lestrade, who I also vaguely work with." The younger man explained gesturing vaguely with his hand. 

John seemed to ruminate on this as Sherlock began drifting off until he was suddenly lurched aside by John sitting up and turning towards him

"What's on for dinner then?" John said excitedly down to his mate who was sprawled inelegantly. His eyes alight like a challenge and joy all over his face at the prospect of going out to show Sherlock as his soul mate. 

Sherlock smirked up at the beautiful man. 

"I do have somewhere in mind. Like Italian?"

\--------------------------------------

Angelo's was the perfect place for a first date. It had delicious Italian food, nice music playing, perfect candle lit mood lighting, and a large semi-intimidating Italian man who liked to get into your personal space and shout things. 

All together a perfect venue for Sherlock and John. The couple took a window seat, ostensibly so Sherlock could watch for his brother's approach. 

The two ordered risotto and white wine and reveled in being able to twist their legs together under the table, and sometimes feed each other food from the same fork like a disgusting romantic movie. Neither could remember being happier. 

When they had first come in Angelo had shouted his joy about Sherlock finally settling down and made sure to get them candles and do his own version of whispering to tell John about why Sherlock was a great guy for keeping him out of jail. The couple had just accepted his request (demand) that they have some Tiramisu for dessert when Sherlock tapped John's hand suddenly. 

John prayed that he would see that wicked smile more in his future. 

"My brother is coming over now." The dark haired man whispered gleefully. "Don't you think it'd be apt of you to snog the hell out of me as he came in?" Sherlock asked innocently, fluttering his eyelashes. 

John couldn't help the giggles that erupted from him or the probably absolute besotted look he had on his face when a man in a suit stopped at the edge of their table and cleared his throat pointedly, breaking their loving stare. 

Mycroft Holmes could be intimidating when he wanted to be, but seeing his brother looking enamored at his soulmate, a benign yet terribly protective man Mycroft could already tell, with his own soulmate beside him. Mycroft couldn't feel it in himself to be too mean. So he smiled. 

Sherlocks shock was almost worth it. He held out a hand,

"Mycroft Holmes." John immediately stood to shake his hand, being the well mannered man he was. "John Watson" he replied steadily. He then turned to silver fox that was a step behind Mycroft. 

"Greg Lestrade." He introduced. Sherlock snorted and muttered something but no real attention was paid to whatever he was saying as the men sized up his new mate. 

Any dramatic exchange was interrupted by Angelo coming back with the tiramisu and his booming voice. 

"Oh more family! Happy times! Sit sit I bring more silverware to you, and more wine!" And left them in an awkward stance between laughter and embarrassment. So they all sat. Mycroft across from John in what he felt could be an intimidating manner, if not for the delicious dessert between them. 

They all put aside the more serious talk to eat the dessert and drink merrily, or at least most of them merrily. Lestrade was getting along splendidly with John, much to Mycroft's chargin and Sherlock's delight. Eventually Mycroft had enough and turned the talk to more serious things. 

"I'm disappointed that you didn't even think to wait for me before bonding." Was what Mycroft finally huffed out that caught the newest couple's attention. 

Sherlock just fluffed his wings petulantly, which made John smile besottedly at him and reach out his own wing to soothe. Mycroft quickly cleared his throat to put a stop to that. 

"John Hamish Watson." Mycroft said in his best no nonsense 'I have the power of the entire British government in my hands' big brother voice. The man unconsciously straightened, which the elder Holmes put down to the man's military training. 

"Why do you think you deserve to be bonded to William?" Mycroft asked, Sherlock hissed at him for using his first name, and John shot him a confused look before Sherlock pointed to himself to imply it was another name for him. John cleared him throat and gathered his thoughts, his feathers ruffling as he drew himself up. 

"I probably don't deserve him," he said, and Sherlock reached out immediately to comfort but John put a steadying hand on him. 

"But I think we make each other better." And Mycroft couldn't help rolling his eyes at the answer as the two newly bonded cooed at each other, knowing that at the same time Lestrade was watching him with a wry little grin because he knew Mycroft couldn't say anything against John's reply. 

"What if I offered you money to not be bonded to him?" Mycroft then asked, ignoring Lestrade's scandalized 'Mycroft' just as John ignored Sherlock's sudden incessant tapping on his leg. 

"I would tell you kindly to fuck off." John said with a stony face. But Sherlock made an exasperated noise and leaned in to whisper into his ear. But Mycroft couldn't care less what his brother was suddenly scheming. Watson had passed his test. 

Lestrade knocked their wings together when he said nothing else. Obviously trying to provoke him into giving his opinion. 

"I hope you know that you'll still have to deal with mummy." Mycroft directed towards Sherlock, interrupting the new couples hushed argument (which, from what Mycroft could read from their lips; was over needing money and that honestly John should've taken the opportunity, Sherlock knew how loyal he was). 

"Mummy approved of you and George," Sherlock said petulantly. Grabbing John's hand on the table and tracing the back of it. Mycroft knew he had nothing else to add to the situation. The two were obviously enraptured. 

He reached his wing out to groom Sherlock's as he once did when they were young. He smiled at his younger brothers gaze and then stood and held out a hand. 

"Welcome to the family Mr. Watson."

\------------------------------------------ 

The mood of the newly bonded soul mates could only be described as ecstatic as they left Angelo's. They had familial approval and were flushed from glasses of wine. 

They had decided to stroll back through the darker streets instead of taking a cab, the night air still and slightly moist, but with enough of a breeze that they wouldn't get sticky feeling. Their jackets were pulled around their bodies, but alcohol and love had already warmed them. 

The two had their hands entwined and their wings bumping as they walked, Sherlock hyperbolically going back over the interaction with Mycroft, just to see John's genuine smile and happy laughter. 

Sherlock had just pulled them down a side alley, "Don't worry John I have a map of London in my mind", when John pulled them to a stop. Still grinning but obviously wanting to have a serious moment as he gazed up at the stars you could see in the night sky between the two buildings. 

"I had never hoped," He started quietly, Sherlock shuffling into his space and wrappings their wings together, resting their foreheads together to give John his utmost attention. He got a smile and a peck on his nose for his efforts and John continued,

"I never had hoped that I would actually meet my soul mate. That I would get to see that glow on someone's wings and know we were meant for each other." John paused to stroke some of the dark feathers of the taller man. 

"And yet there you were. So beautiful. And I have to be the luckiest man alive." He finished. Smiling glowingly up at his mate, now the one with the serious face before he leaned down to kiss John with as much passion as he could muster. 

When they parted breathless Sherlock kissed his brow and muttered, squeezing the army doctor close;

"No my dear Watson. I believe that title goes to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel like this is sort of open ended for a complete work that's because it is. You can either believe it went where it did or.... You can keep reading! I'm gonna make this a series and I already have the first chapter to the next part practically done. Please give critique I wrote this over such a long period and on a plane!

**Author's Note:**

> Comment or critique, leaving kudos keeps the birds afloat


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